Hate Perfected
by Buglet
Summary: Sylvanas and Arthas come to an accord. AU for rampant lack of lore.


**Disclaimer: The only part of Warcraft that belongs to me is my obsession with it. The rest belongs to Blizzard. **

Hate Perfected

"I detest you," Sylvanas hissed. "I abhor you _utterly_…."

"I know it," Arthas said. "Feeling's mutual."

"_As it should be…" _the Banshee Queen snarled. "Now, _where was I…?"_

"As I recall, you were undressing me…" was the amused reply. "Before you were derailed by that rather spiteful diatribe you just spouted to vilify me…" Arthas smiled, "We can begin again, if you like…unless of course, you still feel the need to vent…"

Taking two handfuls of his long, thoroughly tousled, white hair, Sylvanas pulled him closer, "Fuck _you_…" she growled.

"_An excellent strategy…" _Arthas murmured, moving to oblige her.

Sylvanas cruelly tweaked his sensitive, slightly bluish nipples and then, placing her palms flat against his broad, bare chest, she gave him a shove, laughing as his boots slipped on the ice. Down he went, to lie supine in the deep, soft snowdrift where they had been tumbling about for most of the afternoon.

The Dark Lady pounced, leaping astride him. She fixed her strong archer's hands around Arthas' throat, squeezing the resilient flesh with punishing abandon.

He was almost impossible to hurt, but she gave it her best effort.

"I'll bet Jaina never treated you like this…_as you so deserve_…" Sylvanas said, biting his nose, an ear lobe, his chin. She then took what she hoped was an extremely painful grip on his hair, and with all the brutality she could summon, _which was considerable_, she wrenched back his head, so as to aggressively nuzzle his neck, assaulting the strong, cold column of his throat with a barrage of angry kisses and stinging bites.

"Jaina _who_…?" Arthas asked, with a sly laugh, and a sadistic twinkle, lifting his powerful hands to encircle Sylvanas' tiny waist. For a long, admiring moment, he gently caressed the rounded swell of her hips, and then seizing her, he turned, quickly pressing her down beneath his much greater weight. Powdery snow puffed up in a cloud around them, floating back down upon pale, unconcerned skin that barely even felt the cold.

Arthas snickered as Sylvanas pounded his muscular back with both fists, screeching obscenities.

"Ha! Even _you_ dare not risk a moment of carelessness with _me_…_!"_ he gloated, stroking her wriggling body, most intimately, titillated by her enraged curses. "You surely know by now that I am incorrigible and cannot be trusted…"

"_Vile worm…"_ Sylvanas grumbled, tugging at the lacings of his breeches. He leaned up slightly, and then accommodated her demands as she roughly pushed him over onto his back again.

Arthas collapsed agreeably beneath her renewed attack; he chuckled, "Would you like to see my worm? It will appreciate the company; it's very lonely…"

"_Be silent!"_

"Yes, my Lady…" he conceded, braiding his fingers together behind his head, delighted by the energy being applied to his disrobing. It had, admittedly, been a long while since anyone had made such a vigorous foray into _his_ pants. He was quite flattered.

Sylvanas chortled maliciously over what her plundering had revealed.

"_Ouch…" _Arthas gasped, after a few moments of her rather forceful explorations; he laughed incredulously, raising his snowy brows.

"You would do well to _obey_ me…Lich King…" she muttered fervently. Considering what she was holding so tightly in her vicious little hands, he supposed that was probably true.

"I live to serve…" he informed her promptly.

Sylvanas leaned closer over him, studying his handsome, merciless face; he smiled and she slapped him resoundingly.

"Well, now _that_ hurt…" Arthas complained loudly. Despite his querulous tone, he certainly did not appear to be in any pain; in fact, he looked wicked and aroused.

"You talk too much…" she accused. "Best put that mouth to some _useful_ purpose…"

"Oh? Whatever do you have in mind?"

It took no time at all for Sylvanas to have him precisely where she wanted him, and shortly, staring in breathless wonder at the smug elf who was so skillfully riding him, Arthas, his long-dead heart pounding away like Doomhammer, was quite certain he was going to die…_in ecstasy. _

xxxxx

The unearthly sounds, strangely reminiscent of combat, were rather difficult to define; equally elusive was the direction of their source. They boomed and echoed across the glacier, all the way to Icecrown Citadel.

"Sargeras' nutsack!" Anub'arak cried with an anxious look, "What the _hell_ is thatfrightful noise…?"

Sindragosa, lounging comfortably in a pallid sunbeam, opened one tattered eyelid, "I think he called it…_negotiations_…" she replied.

_End_

**AN: Thanks for reading!**


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